Questions and Consequences
by Barddoc1992
Summary: Set in ME2. An immediate follow-up to "Datapads and Derrieres." Thane makes an important discovery about his feelings for Shepard and then realizes he faces a difficult decision.


**Standard Disclaimer: Everything Mass Effect is owned by BioWare, and I receive no financial benefit from this fanfiction.**

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Though he maintained his typical, neutral expression, Thane watched the elevator doors close with gratitude. Once free of Garrus's observation, he exhaled with relief and allowed the small grin to return. The situation in the commander's quarters had been embarrassing for him but also…intriguing. That he was attracted to a human female—to Shepard—was still a bit unsettling for someone who prized self-understanding, but he couldn't call the information surprising. Looking back, he should have identified and acknowledged the risk far earlier.

At the thought of risk, his smile faded.

For a few moments, he had been able to revel in just feeling alive. Enjoying how his heart rate picked up, blood rushed, and heat pooled. But as his body response faded, his mind reengaged. And the questions started.

_Why? Why now? _

Thirty minutes later, Thane sat on his cot in life support. With his hands on his thighs, eyes closed, and ears focused on his own heartbeat and on the comforting thrum of the engine core, he tried to meditate and relax his body and mind into stillness. But the questions refused to subside.

_Why, Arashu? Why send me to Shepard?_ Thane asked. _How long do I have, Kalahira? Eight months? A year? Why did you wish me to rouse now from my battle sleep, with so little time left? _

He had spent ten years disconnected. His soul shattered by Irikah's murder and his vengeful pursuit of her killers. But he was whole now. Awakened. And he owed much, if not all, of that change to Commander Shepard. In these past few weeks, she had somehow gained more from him than his original oath to aid her against the Collectors. She hadn't asked for more. She had done nothing other than offer her friendship and conversation—and then gently cajole him into taking interest in the world around him. After so long alone in a grey, bleak existence, he had been unable to resist her warmth. To him she was sudden sunlight breaking through Kahje's perpetual rain.

He had tried to brush aside his growing attachment as fascination with the mythos of Commander Shepard. After all she inspired intense loyalty, even devotion, in all those around her. But today he finally understood he was attracted to the woman behind that heroic persona, to Morgan herself. To her caring heart and ready laugh, her inner struggles and deceptive strength. And now he wanted far more than the active and honorable death he had hoped her suicide mission would help him achieve. So the most important question was no longer _Why has this happened?_ but _What should I do?_

Life would be much simpler if he were still the young man he had once been. The questions and decisions had seemed easier then, though they led to unforeseen consequences. He allowed the memories to wash over him.

At 18, he was already a skilled, seasoned Guild assassin. After a great deal of surveillance, he had decided that the public park was his best chance to take out his current assignment. He disliked the possibility of innocents witnessing the kill. But his target was too careful, too cagey to catch in a more private setting. He had only one significant flaw in an otherwise secure pattern of behavior. Once or twice a week, he would come to this park alone. True, it was never on the same days, week to week, or at the same times. But he would always return to the same area by an elaborate fountain, often to the same bench. So Thane waited. And his target came. But so did someone else.

_Laser dot trembles on his skull. One finger twitch, he dies. The smell of spice on the spring wind. Sunset colored eyes defiant in the scope. The laser dances away._

Why had the young female chosen that same section of park for her after-lunch walk? Why had she chosen that day, when she had never appeared during his previous stakeouts? Why did she notice the red dot of the sighting laser? How in Amonkira's name did she even know it for what it was? And where did an ordinary civilian get the courage to block a kill shot?

But she was far from ordinary. She guessed his approximate position and mouthed "How dare you?" into the magnification of his scope. Who was she? A siha sent by Arashu? She seemed an angel of protection as she turned toward his mark, striking up a conversation and taking the proffered arm so they could leave the park together. She sent one last scowl over her shoulder in Thane's direction. How would he ever find her after this? How could he make her understand?

All those questions rushed through his mind that day. But they were overshadowed by the intense need to track her down, talk to her, and somehow convince her to forgive him. He didn't stop to think _What then?_ or _Should I do this?_ He didn't think about consequences, ramifications, or potential cost. He just…needed. He couldn't have explained what, for certain, he craved so much. He needed, and when he found his siha, she had recognized the need and responded.

Even now, two decades after meeting Irikah, he still marveled at the gift the gods had brought into his life.

There had of course been consequences, both good and bad. Falling in love and marrying. Discovering life outside the Guild. Learning he would become a father. Leaving the Compact. Realizing he had no other skills with which to support a family. Welcoming his child into the world. Arguing with his wife when he resumed taking contracts. They had experienced joyful times and hard ones together, loving each other, raising their son. He wished with all his heart he could have been a better husband and a better father, but he still thanked the gods for Irikah and for Kolyat. His life without them would have been…cold.

But then harder questions came. An efficient doctor delivered a diagnosis and a prognosis. It was clear she had recited them numerous times to other patients before him. Half listening to the list of treatment and lifestyle recommendations, Thane was caught up in a whirlwind. _Why? Why me? How can it be me? I'm healthy and strong. How long do I have? What do I tell Irikah? How do I tell her? How do I explain a terminal illness to a seven-year-old boy? What will happen to my family?_

_Why, Arashu? Why bless me and then allow this death sentence?_

He wandered the streets around the doctor's office for most of the afternoon before heading home, still at a loss. As he neared the house, he heard Kolyat laughing in the yard, playing with a neighbor child. Irikah was singing in the kitchen, keeping an eye on the boys while preparing dinner. She greeted her husband with a warm smile and kiss. His cherished family was happy, at least on this day. And so he said nothing.

That night he kept Irikah awake, making love to her with an ardor he usually reserved for their initial reunion after a long trip. He needed her to know so many things for which he didn't have words. That his life was meaningful because of her love and belief in him. That learning to love had yielded riches he could never have imagined without her. That she had changed his very being and helped him become a better person. He wanted to give her this gift of himself in the most caring language he could manage, before…before he could tell her about the Kepral's.

They were both sleepy but relaxed and contented the next morning. Together they handled their energetic child at breakfast and readied him for school. Thane planned to sit down with Irikah after Kolyat was in class. He wanted to talk with her over cups of hot tea, hold her when she needed it, and give the entire day to her until their son's return.

At least that had been the plan, until his omnitool beeped a priority message alert while Irikah walked Kolyat down the block. By the time she returned, her husband was in his leathers and packing a bag. Thane knew Irikah believed he had received the message the previous night. That his lovemaking had been both an apology for the contract and a farewell until his return. He didn't correct her. She didn't argue about the contract this time, simply hugged him tight and told him to stay safe. She reminded him to hurry home so he wouldn't miss Kolyat's birthday in three weeks.

A very rough month later, Thane was finally on a ship back to Kahje. He had made do with a video call when Kolyat turned eight. His son had seemed happy enough, the boy's smile turning to a grin when he mentioned bringing home a gift. Irikah was saddened by his absence from the celebration, though she had brightened at the news that he planned to be home soon.

Preparing to enter Kahje's orbit, he thought of how he could have been home the previous day. A scheduled transport had been delayed. If he'd pushed, he could have found a way to make his next connection. But the reprieve was not unwelcome. He was exhausted, recovering from some minor injuries that made the confined spaces of public travel uncomfortable. And he still had to break the news of his diagnosis to his wife. So he accepted the delay.

Seated on his cot in life support, Thane flinched away from the next memories. What the hit squad sent by the batarian slavers had done to Irikah during his extra day of travel. The final consequences of his impulsiveness at 18, of not stopping to ask the right questions, had come to fruition. There had been a very high cost after all. And Irikah had paid it. Thane still struggled with that guilt.

_Why?_ he had demanded, begged. _Why her and not me? I'm the one with the terminal illness. Why didn't they come after me? Why was the transport delayed? Gods, why didn't I try harder to get home on time?_

The single blessing of that day was Kolyat's absence. Knowing that her husband was often edgy and in need of an adjustment period when first returning home, Irikah had sent the boy to her sister for the night. So at least his son was spared witnessing and perhaps sharing his mother's death. In reality, Kolyat lost both his parents that day, though Thane did not leave Kahje for two weeks. Another innocent paying the cost of his own decisions. He vowed to his gods that his actions would never again bring such pain to another. And then he shut down the questions and the guilt with battle sleep and vengeance.

Now, ten years later, Shepard had entered his life. Awakened him. His earlier questions still spun through his mind, preventing restful meditation. _Why, Arashu? Why choose Shepard?_ _How long do I have, Kalahira? What should I do?_

Thane suspected he already knew the why of it. Commander Shepard was another siha, as his Irikah had been. He called up the memory of seeing her for the first time, when he tracked her and her team as they moved through the Dantius Towers. As impressed as he was by her marksmanship and tech skills, he was rather stunned by her small stature when she stood next to her colleagues. But her life force blazed around her, as fiery as her hair and gleaming armor. One could mistake her for Arashu's avatar despite her size.

Nothing seemed to faze her or slow her down, with one exception: the chance to spare lives. Whenever she could, she tried to use words instead of bullets. She convinced a number of mercenaries to lay down their weapons and leave the building. And she looked after the salarian workers he had secured, making sure they were escorted to safety. For a battle-hardened warrior, she showed an unexpected dedication to peace.

He was captivated by her even before he heard her name and grasped who she was. And then he was startled anew by her relative youth. At first glance through his rifle scope, he would have placed her age more than a decade younger than his own. For her to have accomplished so much in so little time was difficult to credit. When they met face to face in the tower penthouse, he revised his estimation up two or three years. But she was still young to have had such an impact on the galaxy.

To be honest, he was taken aback by more than her age. After seeing her in battle and learning her identity, he had made some assumptions. He thought that standing within arm's reach of her would allow him to detect a certain hardness or coldness in her face and manner. That she would be somewhat jaded or cynical, perhaps a bit harsh or abrupt. These were traits he had come to associate with career military types. Instead, she had seemed fresh and…untarnished, despite a full night of fighting.

Her voice was a pleasant alto, animated but polite. He sensed it was her usual conversational tone rather than a special effort. When he mentioned that he was dying, her compassionate response was immediate and sincere. If he had not beheld the fighting himself, he would have had difficulty believing this slight young woman was the very proficient N7 from the lower levels, let alone the extraordinary Commander Shepard. She was just…surprising.

The surprises continued after he joined her team and took up residence in the life support control room. His new turian colleague—who had also impressed him in the Dantius Towers—gave him a tour of the Normandy, introducing him to most of the team members and some of the crew. Everyone they spoke to, from the serene asari justicar to the brash young krogan, had commented on the honor they felt serving with the commander. Some, like the foul-mouthed biotic and the salarian professor who appeared to be retired STG, had included covert or even overt threats to the health of anyone who dared to betray or otherwise hurt her. This crew was certainly committed. And Shepard was their undisputed center, their touchstone.

The turian—Vakarian—had mentioned the commander would visit him, and she indeed stopped by that evening. What he supposed would be a perfunctory check on how he was settling in turned into a two-hour chat. Despite her long day and lack of sleep the previous night, Shepard was relaxed and sociable. Within the first 30 minutes, he decided the undertone of good humor and occasional amusement in her voice was a reflection of her personality. She was a renowned warrior and efficient killer who was somehow still…lighthearted. The juxtaposition was compelling.

When they paused for refreshments he learned that she preferred tea as he did. She took her Earth blend milky with a hint of sweetness. He also discovered, as they stood near each other in the galley, that Shepard was even smaller out of armor and without her combat boots. The top of her head did not quite reach his chin. He had to resist the urge to brush the sensitive ribbing of his frill against her odd curtain of red strands, wanting to know if they were as silky as they looked. He told himself he was interested in this uniquely human feature. That it wasn't specific to Shepard.

The recollection kicked up one corner of his mouth into a small, self-deprecating smile. He was not usually so blind to his own motivations.

Their actual discussion revealed that she had a mind unlike any he had encountered. She seemed to hunger for new knowledge and listened to his information with avid but respectful curiosity. About Rahkana and Kahje. The hanar and drell and the Compact. His early training. His religious beliefs. And she was well informed about his culture to begin with, far more than any other alien he had met in his travels. He would never have guessed he was the first drell of her acquaintance if she hadn't mentioned it.

But she did more than absorb material that was new to her. She asked intelligent and engaging questions that sent his thinking in new directions. She recognized his Hobbes quotation and countered with one of her own. And though she was very accepting of cultural difference, she was quite willing to contest a viewpoint she felt was arbitrary or inconsistent. He realized he enjoyed the challenge she presented. That he enjoyed her. By the end of the evening, he found himself hoping she would visit again. Soon.

She had, settling into a routine that included stops by life support several times a week, as mission requirements allowed. The conversation that returned most often to his thoughts was the evening he managed to turn the tables, for once getting his inquisitive commander to do most of the talking. Finding out she was also a person of deeply-held spiritual beliefs, with her own difficult but persistent questions, had forged something between them.

"We have spoken a number of times about my religious views, Shepard," he had reminded her as they sat at the table in his quarters, each with a mug of tea. "I am interested in your own, whatever they may be."

The commander had looked pensive and a little tired that night, not quite the vibrant young woman he had come to expect. Thane thought at first that he had picked the wrong time for his inquiry. Then she had given him a rather sad smile and responded.

"It's interesting you asked that tonight," she began, "as it's been on my mind today." She stood and walked to the window overlooking the drive core. After a long moment she continued, "I was raised with a specific set of beliefs, an Earth religion that is more than 2000 years old." She smirked a bit as she turned her head to look at Thane over her shoulder. "That's pretty old, for humans anyway."

She turned back to the window before going on. "Nearly half of our colony's pioneer population came from the same location on Earth, from a country where this particular religion was pretty dominant. So even though I grew up in a human colony rather than on the homeworld, the teachings stayed consistent. We had a church we attended that anyone from the same faith tradition would have felt was familiar and comfortable. I really liked that idea when I was growing up, that people on different planets multiple relays apart could share the same beliefs, and that we also shared those beliefs with generations past and would continue to share them into the future."

"Unity and continuity are comforting concepts," Thane rumbled to soothe her, concerned by the rigid set of the commander's neck and shoulders.

"They are," Shepard agreed, ghosting patterns on the glass with a finger, "until they suddenly disappear. Until you are forced to wonder if they were a lie in the first place."

She was silent for so long he feared she had decided to quit the topic, but then she turned around. Facing him, leaning back against the window, she softly stated, "I had a sister once. Two, actually. The younger one would have been 25 years old today."

She twisted the fingers of both hands together, a gesture she seemed unaware of making. "I wonder what she would have been like had she gotten a chance to grow up, what kind of life she might have had. She was such a sweet kid."

She ducked her chin to avoid eye contact. "Sure, we fought sometimes. A lot, really, as I got into my teens. With the age difference between us, I would get annoyed with her always tagging after me. I'd be mean to her, a complete jerk. But then she would hug me and tell me she loved me anyway."

She took a deep breath and blinked her eyes. She dropped her arms to her sides and began a slow pacing of the room's small open area. "Today, I realized I'm still angry about the fact that she's not here," she confessed. "I was so angry for such a long time. Why would the benevolent God I had been raised to believe in allow things like slaver raids? Why would He take my family, take nearly everyone I had known my entire life, but leave me to continue alone?"

"I asked the same questions over and over, needing some kind of answer, any answer." She sighed before retaking her chair and linking her hands again. "I felt like I was constantly yelling at God in my head. Then after a while, the yelling became more like…conversations. Still the same questions, but with me supplying possible answers, trying them out. Kind of like the way I used to work through complex school lessons with my dad. Until I accepted that there really were no answers, that it had never been God's fault to begin with. Or my family's fault. Or mine."

"But just as I was regaining a sense of…peace with all of it, the galaxy yanked everything out from under me." Thane noticed she had resumed twisting her fingers. "Boom, I was instantly back to bottomless anger and endless questions. Why would God create monsters like thresher maws? Why would He let them tear through my squad, killing 50 good people? They were my first command, my responsibility. I let them down. And I was left alone, again."

"And so the process repeated." She grimaced slightly, as if unhappy with herself or perhaps with her memories. "After enough healing, I came to a similar conclusion, though it took considerably longer the second time."

She looked up from her hands to meet Thane's eyes. "Do you get any of this?" she asked with a touch of humor. "I imagine I sound like a crazy person, admitting to conversations with myself. But then again, 'The organic mind is not a terribly logical or consistent place. And only the mad are truly sure of their sanity.'"

"I understand more than you might think, Shepard," he responded, his subharmonics sending out a low trill of comfort. "I have known loss, and I have turned to my gods for answers."

He paused for a moment before giving her a small smile. "The quotation, by the way, is the salarian philosopher Joldan Benle. You said you came to a resolution but still fell back into anger today."

She smiled in return to acknowledge his point in their literary reference game. Then she became thoughtful again. "I don't think major trauma ever leaves us," she conceded. "The best thing to hope for is that I handle it better each time it rolls back around. And I think I do, generally, though some days are harder than others."

"Indeed, some are," he concurred with a slow nod. "You are wiser than most beings manage even late in their lifespans. Do you still consider yourself a member of the faith in which you were raised?"

"Yes, for the most part," she replied. "Attending services regularly isn't possible when working in space, but I try to get to a church whenever I can, whatever the denomination. I still believe the basic tenets I was taught—why spirituality is important, what my relationship with the larger universe should be like, how I should treat others, what constitutes moral or immoral behavior. But I'm not sure what my parents would think about the way my beliefs have…broadened, I guess."

"After those…hard times, I began to see God as less judgmental and more forgiving, more inclined toward love," she confided. "I still believe that certain actions are moral or immoral, but I see a lot more gray now and a lot less black and white."

She smiled her first normal, genuine smile of the evening. "Meeting other species and trying to gain an understanding of their cultures and beliefs has had an impact, too. Though I still refer to the God my parents taught me about, my actual thinking is less proprietary now. I tend to see an unknowable cosmic force as the single power behind most religions, with each specific belief set as a manifestation for that particular culture's needs."

"So you see your god and my gods as different faces of the same divinity," Thane restated. "I would need to think on that, Shepard, but it is an interesting idea."

"As long as you remember that I can't claim faultless insight," Shepard laughed, holding up her hands in a don't-blame-me gesture. "And that this wise human was admitting to completely purposeless, recycled anger a little while ago."

Thane acknowledged her humor with a small smile before turning more serious. "Do not blame yourself for your anger, Shepard, though it feels 'recycled,' as you put it. It is not purposeless, it is a buffer, a necessary one. You still care for your sister, for the memories of your life together. But the circumstances of her loss were heartbreaking. Anger might be the least painful emotion for you to access when you think of her. It is difficult, how strong, negative emotions can take over and control memories we know were beautiful and positive. But the good memories and happier emotions are there. Waiting for when you no longer need the anger for protection."

The commander's smile grew tremulous. "Thank you, Thane. To quote someone rather wise himself, 'I need to think on that, but it is an interesting idea.'"

She had said goodnight not long after, and he was glad she seemed more relaxed than when she first arrived. The conversation marked a small but significant change in their evenings together, with both of them less reserved with the other and more willing to exchange bits and pieces of personal history. It was the first time Shepard let down some of her guard with him and admitted to private conflict, and he hoped it would not be the last.

Thane sat on his cot as he returned to the present, seeing now that his attachment to the commander was even deeper than he had already known. The question _What should I do? _continued its loop in his head.

If he were still at all the impetuous young man he had been, he would start planning his campaign to court his second siha. He had to believe that winning her affection was possible, though it would require great effort. Arashu had caused his path to cross with Shepard's for a reason. But he had learned painful, difficult lessons. He would not repeat the mistake of failing to consider consequences and costs.

He knew he could not throw himself at Shepard's feet as he had Irikah's, not even as a metaphor. Though she was generous in giving of herself for her team and her crew, she was slow to rely on others or allow them close. Even Garrus admitted that he knew little of her pre-Saren experiences. She had shared a few childhood memories with the turian only after her resurrection by Cerberus, as she struggled to convince herself that she was the real Morgan Shepard.

The commander's history of loss made for high walls, which she was beginning to dismantle for Thane. If he admitted to more than friendship now, he suspected she would back away and shut down, and he would lose their blossoming friendship. That was not a risk he wished to take.

His other option was to allow their relationship to develop at its current pace but with very subtle…suggestions from him that he might be interested in more. It was the one route that might work with Shepard, and it didn't endanger their current friendship. But was it the right course of action? Not just for him, but for her?

He wanted the answer to be _Yes!_ He wanted the opportunity to hold Shepard in his arms, close enough to catch strands of her hair on the scales of his chin. To lower his head to test the softness of her lips against his own. He wanted the chance to love her, support her. Be everything that she needed so she could face the battles she alone seemed able to fight.

_But for how long? Eight months? A year? And then what?_

He tried to argue with himself that a long-term future did not matter. That they would both certainly die going through the Omega 4 relay or facing what lay on the other side. But that was a belief he no longer held. If anyone could bring the Normandy and her crew back through that relay, mission accomplished, it was Shepard. She had a future to look forward to. He did not.

_But could we be together for a year?_ It wasn't very long in the life span of a human. Shepard might live for another 100 years or more, the frequent danger of her career notwithstanding. She might be able to say goodbye with a few simple tears. Move on when his soul crossed the sea.

No, Shepard had already lost too much in her young life. And he suspected she carried other wounds she had yet to share with him. If she were to love again, she would have to overcome deep reservations and self-protective urges. But if she was able to do that, he sensed she would give herself completely and then hold on with all her might and determination. If she ever came to share his feelings, if they deepened with time and intimacy, she would love him not for the rest of his life but for hers. And she would mourn him the same way.

He wanted a chance at that love, yearned for it with every beat of his heart. But it would not be fair to her. He had to let this dream go.

But his endless thinking came up with another problem. The more he considered it, the more he realized he was already on route to a relationship with Shepard. He had wanted to touch her during their first evening chat. The desire kept recurring. He knew it would not stop if he continued spending time alone with her. He was doubtless already broadcasting subtle hints to her, and he was not sure he could halt that, either. After all, Arashu had chosen them for each other. There was only one way to end this process. To protect Shepard from future pain of his making.

He wouldn't be able to maintain their friendship after all. He had to cut every tie but those required by his oath to aid her mission.

He had to let her go.

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**A special thanks must go to n7petiole for being a wonderful beta, especially for this tough chapter.**

**This storyline continues in "Heads, Hearts, and Hand-to-Hand."**

**As always, I would love your feedback! Thank you for reading!**


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